


Brave New World

by Fyre



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-23
Updated: 2012-04-23
Packaged: 2017-11-04 04:55:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/389968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fyre/pseuds/Fyre
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Baelfire's plan didn't go quite as he hoped.</p>
<p>Spoilers for episode 19 - The Return</p>
            </blockquote>





	Brave New World

**Author's Note:**

> This could be a series. It really could. I just don't know if I can face being so epically jossed again so soon.

"Hey, kid! You goin' to a costume party?"

"Yeah, kid. It's not even Halloween!"

Baelfire looked up. Apparently, the look on his face was enough to stop the two teenagers from saying anything more. They sneered and strutted, but still backed off. It was the same as any older teenagers at home, but this was anywhere but home.

He was somewhere big, somewhere with towering stone buildings, and lanterns glowed at the top of high poles. Horseless metal carriages had roared and rattled around him until he had run into a shelter between two buildings. It stank and the ground was puddled, but he sank down in a heap against the wall.

He was still shaking and he'd been sick twice already. He didn't know if it was the journey that had done it or if it was because of his father, his stupid, selfish, scared idiot of a father. His eyes were stinging with tears and he pressed the heels of his hands against them, trying to keep it all in.

The whole world was so loud. There was power crackling in the air, not magic, but something carried in wires, and he could hear it buzzing. More of the metal vehicles roared along the broadest road he had ever seen. Even the buildings were much higher and even more closely packed than the smallest village, and light gleamed from the windows, despite the night's darkness. It couldn't be candlelight, not with such a strong glow.

It was frightening and vast and Baelfire wished with all his might that his father could be there with him. Even if they were both afraid, they would be afraid together.

But this was a world with no magic.

This was a world with nothing he knew, not even papa.

He pulled his cloak around him tightly, shivering. It was cold, and it was dark, and he wanted to be home, in a warm bed, and pretend it was all a nightmare, but he knew that closing his eyes and wishing would change things or make it go away.

He must have slept. He didn't know how he did it, but he was woken, sprawled on his side on the ground, prodded awake by a man wearing blue. The man was crouched down beside him, and was looking at him with concern. He had brown skin and much darker eyes than Baelfire was used to, but his expression was familiar. "You okay, kid?"

He struggled up on one elbow, stiff, cold and shaking. "I'm fine," he lied through chattering teeth.

"You don't look okay," the man said, frowning. "You got somewhere to stay?" Baelfire hesitated, then shook his head. "Friends? Family?" Baelfire felt like he was folding in on himself, twisted up as tightly as papa's woven thread. "Okay, you're coming with me."

Baelfire looked up at the man, too tired to be afraid or truly curious. "Who are you?"

The man smiled. "I'm Johnny," he said. "We'll get you down the station and see if we can find you somewhere to stay."

"You're very kind," Baelfire said quietly, as the man helped him to his feet.

"Serve and protect, kid," Johnny said. He shed his own coat and draped it around Baelfire's shoulders. "That's what I do."

They walked on the grey, flat slabs that edged the vast road. Baelfire jumped every time one of the metal things went past, blaring noise, and he knew Johnny was getting worried. He tried not to jump, tried to act as if he belonged, but with everything so new, it was hard.

Johnny led him to a big building. There were other people there in the same tunic and breeches as Johnny, and Baelfire realised that he must be the guardians of the place he was now in. He was still scared senseless as he was led into the building.

There was so much noise and so many people. He flinched beside Johnny, who put an arm around his shoulder, and for a second, he felt safe. Johnny took him into a room that was all glass along one wall. Baelfire had never seen so much glass in one place, not even after papa replaced their cottage. Johnny told him to wait there, and left. Baelfire stood by the window and looked out. The place, the town, whatever it was, was bigger than anything he had ever seen. Buildings seemed to go forever in all directions.

He backed away from the glass and into the corner, feeling far too small and alone for such a big world.

Johnny found him there when he came back. He was carrying a tray of food, and he looked surprised. "What's up, kid?"

"I don't know where I am," Baelfire whispered. He knew there were tears and they were falling, hot and heavy, but he couldn't stop them, not even if he wanted to. "I don't know what I'm meant to do."

Johnny set the tray down on the table and knelt down in front of him. "Hey, hey, kid," he said, putting his arm around Baelfire's shoulders and pulling him closer. Baelfire gulped down on a painful sob, clasping his hands over his face. "It's okay, kid. You're okay. You're safe."

Baelfire wished he could stop, wished he could swallow all of the fear and misery and grief down, but he was tired and alone and cold, and now, this person was speaking to him like he wasn't in any danger, and it was the first time in his life anyone but his papa had said it. And it was the first time in his whole life that he actually believed it.

Johnny let him cry until he thought he was going to be sick. It hurt all the way down to his chest when he finally stopped, and he rubbed his face with one hand.

"I'm sorry," he said hoarsely. His throat hurt real bad.

"It's okay, kid," Johnny said. He helped Baelfire up and led him, on shaking legs, to the table. "C'mon. Sit down. Have something to eat. We'll get you cleaned up too and you can tell me how you ended up sleeping rough."

Baelfire didn't recognise anything on the tray, but he ate every bit of it anyway, suddenly starving. Johnny had a board and a tube with a metal tip, which he used to write on the paper attached to the board as Baelfire ate.

"What's your name, kid?" he asked, as Baelfire nursed a cup of thick, hot, sweet brown liquid.

Baelfire looked at him uncertainly. 'Johnny' wasn't a name they would have used in the Forest, so Baelfire would probably not fit here. It would only make it worse, being called by the name his father gave him, and no one even remembering. He looked down at the drink, shrugged.

"Everyone has a name," Johnny said gently.

"Mine doesn't matter," Baelfire said quietly. "No one knows me. No one will look for me."

It felt final to say it.

It was the last bean.

The last gate to this world.

Even if papa wanted to come after him, there was no way he could.

Johnny was looking at him, and Baelfire could feel the man's dark eyes on him, but he didn't look up. He didn't want to see if it was pitying or contemptuous. He sipped at the drink, the sweet flavour leaving a bitter aftertaste.

"What do you want to be called?" Johnny finally asked. "I can't just call you kid, can I?" There was a teasing tone in his voice, friendly, encouraging. "It could get confusing, if there were other kids around."

Baelfire looked up at him. "I don't know," he said in a small voice.

"How about your pop's name?" Johnny said. "You know? Your father?"

The cup trembled in Baelfire's hands and he set it down to keep from dropping it. "No."

Johnny was quiet for a second. "How about you tell me where you come from?"

Baelfire shook his head. "I can't go back."

"Because of your father?" Baelfire looked up at him, wide-eyed. Johnny offered him a brief, half-smile of sympathy. "Kid, I've seen enough runaways to know when there's trouble at home. Your pop turned out not to be the man you wanted him to be?"

Baelfire nodded, looking back down at the table. He squeezed his hands together until his fingers hurts. "I can't go back," he repeated in a shaking whisper.

In the end, they settled on just filling out the rest of the paperwork, as much as they could. There were a torrent of words that passed Baelfire by: April nineteen sixty-nine, Tremont and Beacon, Sudbury, caucasian. He hid over the drink that was long since gone cold.

Finally, Johnny set the paper down on the table.

"Child services will be taking care of you from here," he said, "but I'll give you my number, and if anything happens, you can call on me, okay?"

Baelfire nodded. "What happens now?" he asked quietly.

Johnny scratched a hand through his hair. "You'll get assigned somewhere to stay," he said. "It'll be tough, kid, but stick up for yourself. If you're lucky, you'll get fostered quickly and have a home."

Baelfire looked down at his hands. A home. That word brought to mind the smell of wool, tallow, a sad, thin, scared man with a limp and a weary smile. He could never find that again, not even if he looked his whole life. It made his eyes sting and he blinked hard.

"Lucky," he agreed in a whisper.


End file.
